You were working as One Direction's clothes stylist for a month now and you were enjoying it so far.
You bit your lip in concentration, as your eyes scanned the rack of clothing. You had 2 minutes to pick out clothes for the each of the boys, who had already arrived late because of their laziness.
Your hands desperately search the closets and other racks, as someone walks into the room.
"Hurry up, (Y/N). I'm cold," You hear Harry's voice behind you and you turn to find a shirtless, wet-haired Harry, with only a towel wrapped around his lower area.
You nod, before deciding on a particular combination.
Your gaze turns to Harry, who was a couple of centimeters away from you now. Your eyes register the current length of his hair, before you block the space between you with a large black fedora.
"How do you feel about wearing this?" You ask, nervously, as you feel Harry's eyes all around your body.
"Alright," He replies, as he takes the clothes from your hands, including the fedora, and walks out the room.
"What's up, (Y/N)?!" Louis hollered, walking in, making you laugh away all the uneasiness of Harry's glances.
**
You were all currently in the van, going to an interview, the lads not having time to change from their last outfits.
"So, (Y/N), since we're in America and all, you should definitely show us your hometown," Liam says, and the lads agree. You suddenly hear Harry mumble a few words, and you realize he was singing. His hand started tapping on his knee to the beat.
You smile, recognizing the tune, as Liam and Louis started an argument, Zayn laughing wildly at them from next to you.
"I didn't know you listened to Coldplay," You whisper to Harry, a smile forming on his face.
"I didn't know you liked them," He replied.
The van bounced on a road bump, making Harry's hand brush against your knee, making you blush again.
No matter how long you spent with the One Direction lads, Harry always seemed to interest you.
"You're such a heavenly view," You hear him whisper, as you look away. You were sure that he was just singing the line, not actually meaning it to you.
**
"No, no. In the first and second finger," You repeat, as Harry fiddles with the rings you had given him.
"Aren't rings for girls?" He scoffed, but you rolled your eyes.
"Not necessarily. These are male-designed rings. Just like the male purses," You give an example, making Harry playfully stick his tongue out at you.
"Hold out your wrist," You command him, after realizing that there were 5 minutes left.
You tie a rope-bracelet around his wrist, which complimented his skin and tattoos perfectly.
"Hm, this is a pretty one," You smile absentmindedly, as you trace the tattooed cross on his hand.
"Thank you," He replies, a small smirk on his face, as he watched you.
You snap yourself out of your fantasies, as you move of to the rest of the boys.
**
"So, boys, we really want to know. Who styles you up?!" The interviewer exclaimed, followed by the live audience's cheers of approval.
